Chapter 126 #44: Hello, Doll
The police arrive while I’m still standing in the hallway outside David’s room, staring at the television screen where the news ticker keeps scrolling Elaine’s photo. Two detectives in plain clothes walk in. One of them is older with salt-and-pepper hair and tired eyes, the other slightly younger. They approach me directly already holding their badges out.
The older one speaks first. “Mrs. Calder? We need to speak with you please.”
I don’t argue. I follow them to a small conference room down the corridor that the hospital must keep for this kind of thing. Sel tries to come with me but the younger detective shakes her head politely. “Just Mrs. Calder for now ma'am.”
I sit across from them. My hands stay in my lap, fingers laced tight to keep them from shaking. The older detective – Detective Harlan according to his badge – places a slim folder on the table but doesn’t open it yet.
“We’re investigating the death of Elaine Reid,” he begins. “Her body was recovered from the Hudson River early this morning. Preliminary autopsy shows she was strangled before entering the water, not drowned. Someone killed her and dumped her in there.”
I don’t trust myself to speak yet, so I just nod and stay quiet.
Harlan watches me carefully. “We have witnesses who say you had a physical altercation with Mrs. Reid in this very hospital a few days ago. Multiple people heard you threaten her... they said you particularly mentioned something about her body washing up on the Hudson River if she kept pushing you.”
The younger detective, Martinez, leans forward slightly. “Those are direct threats, Mrs. Calder. The motive appears strong. You were under significant stress... family disputes... financial pressure... We’ve pulled records showing tension between you and Mrs. Reid going back years.”
I take a slow breath. “I slapped her. Yes. She grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go after I’d just watched my husband get rushed into surgery for a gunshot wound. I was exhausted. I was terrified. I said something while angry. I didn’t mean it literally.”
Harlan opens the folder now and slides a printed still from hospital security across the table. It’s grainy but clear: my hand connecting with Elaine’s cheek, her stumbling backward. Another angle shows me stepping over threateningly her as she sits on the floor.
“Looks pretty intentional to me,” Martinez says. “And the words match the condition of the body.”
I meet his eyes. “I didn’t kill her. I haven’t left this hospital except to bring my daughter home for a few hours. I’ve been here with my hus–" I pause, clear my throat and correct myself, "ex-husband and my child. Ask anyone on staff.”
Harlan eyes me, then nods slowly. “We’ve spoken to them. They all admit that you’ve barely left the building, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have slipped out. Doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have helped you.”
I laugh bitterly. “You think I orchestrated a murder while sitting vigil at my ex-husband’s bedside? While my five-year-old daughter is recovering from a bone marrow transplant? You really think I had the time or the energy?”
Martinez doesn’t smile. “People do desperate things when they’re cornered.”
“I wasn’t cornered,” I say evenly. “I was grieving. I was scared. But I did not kill her.”
"Not to worry," Harlan closes the folder. “We’re not placing you under arrest. At least not yet. But for now, you’re a person of interest. We’ll need you to stay in the city, no travel outside New York until we clear you. You’ll need to check in with us every forty-eight hours. We’ll have officers outside your apartment and here at the hospital for your protection.”
I look him in the eye. “Protection from what?”
Harlan eyes me again for a moment, then smiles, gathers his things, and stands up to leave. He pauses at the door. “If you remember anything... anything at all... you call us immediately. Day or night.”
With that, they leave.
I sit there for a long minute after they’re gone, staring at the table. My reflection looks back at me in the polished surface. I look like someone who could strangle a woman and dump her in the river. I look like someone who’s one bad decision away from falling apart completely.
I stand up and walk back to David’s room, hoping his presence and his steady breathing with keep me grounded.
The hallway is quiet now. The crash cart is gone. The monitors beep steadily behind the glass. I push the door open and step inside.
And I find him sitting up.
Not fully upright, but propped against pillows, the head of the bed elevated. A small plastic cup of red jello sits on the tray table in front of him. He’s spooning it slowly, carefully, like every movement costs him something. His face is still pale, still bruised, but his eyes are open and clear.
David looks up when I enter, and our eyes meet. I freeze in the doorway. My heart stumbles, then slams forward so hard it hurts.
He’s awake.
He’s sitting up.
Then he smiles... that slow, sexy, wicked smile I haven’t seen in weeks, the one that used to make my knees weak in boardrooms and bedrooms alike.
“Hello, Doll.”